Unbuttoned
by marap
Summary: 'She isn't sure why she even let him in in the first place. It was far too late and her heart was far too heavy. But she couldn't say no.' Sam/Andy. Tag for 3x10.


_AN: A quick little post-ep for tonight's heartbreaking episode. I hope you like it and please review! I have a headache (possibly induced by the stress of that episode) so I apologise in advance for any mistakes and the fact that this isn't my best. I hope you enjoy, regardless. Have a great weekend, everyone. Stay strong, the season's not over yet. Oh, and the title was inspired by Andy's 'button up our relationship' line in tonight's episode. It's not literal, I'm afraid. X_

**Unbuttoned**

She isn't sure why she even let him in in the first place. It was far too late and her heart was far too heavy. But she couldn't say no. As in, she _physically_ could not form the words. _Word_, rather. Maybe that was pathetic. Or maybe it was just who she was.

Either way, he was there and so was she. Together. For the first time in weeks. Weeks that had passed with a slowness she remembered from when she was twelve and she'd waited for her mother to come back. To realise that she'd made a mistake, or for her to come into her room one afternoon and announce it had all been a bit joke. A sick one, at that. She hadn't come back.

But Sam had.

Andy didn't know if she should hate him or love him for it. In her youth, she had believed that if her mother just came back, everything would be fine and go back to normal. She'd feel just like she had _before_. The leaving wouldn't matter because the return was all that counted.

She realised now that she'd been wrong. Sam was right there, but the weight in her chest still felt like a bullet. He had asked to come in and they'd been standing in her living room ever since, neither making a move to sit. She'd tugged at the sleeve of her blue henley and folded her arms, a nervous shrug lifting her shoulders.

Now, she waited for him to speak. She studied the dark fabric of his chocolate brown shirt, the stubble most prominent on his upper left.

'I shouldn't have left,' he said after a few long moments, by which time Andy had almost forgotten she'd been waiting for him to speak, the thumping of anticipation in her chest her only reminder.

She took a second to register his words.

Then, she spoke. 'Would it have made a difference?' His decision seemed to have been made long before she told him to get in his truck and go. It wasn't like she'd have made him, if he'd fought her on it.

Like he had _promised_.

'I don't know,' he said. It was a weak reply, but it was an honest one. She could see that in his eyes. That in itself was strangely comforting. That night outside The Penny, it had felt like she didn't know him at all. She hadn't recognised the person infront of her. He'd seemed a stranger.

Her gaze fell to the floor of her apartment and she shook her head a little, shaking away memories she hadn't ever expected him to make in the first place.

'I didn't see it coming,' she said, like an admission of guilt. 'You'd think I'd be better at that by now.' She remembered bitterly how blind she'd been with Luke. How she had trusted him. Believed him when he said that he and Jo were in the past. _How wrong she had been._

She hadn't even considered that she could be wrong again.

Sam looked back at her intently. 'I didn't cheat on you, Andy.'

She loved/hated that he could read her mind so easily, effortlessly intune.

'I know that, okay? I know that.' She spoke firmly, annoyance in her voice and her hand movements that almost seemed to speak louder. It felt like he were telling her the sky was blue and expecting her to celebrate this great revelation. 'But you know what?' she continued rhetorically. '_This?_ That _night?_ It's worse,' she said. 'It hurts _worse_.' She leant forward a little, as if it would push the words deeper into him.

She was telling the truth. That night outside The Penny, the tears had seemed hotter and the pain struck deeper. She'd realised then – like _really_ realised, the whole swear-on-the-bible kind of realisation - that Luke would never have been Sam. She'd never before felt what she felt for Sam.

_Talk about cliché._

'Andy… I'm sorry.'

She nodded, despite feeling her brow furrow. 'Yeah,' she said, hating the crack in her voice. She looked up at him a second or two later, as if something had just occurred to her. 'You remember when you did that background check on my Mom?' She didn't wait for a reply before continuing. 'You remember what you said?'

This time, she did wait.

Sam swallowed. Slowly, his lips parted and he spoke. 'That I didn't want her to break your heart.'

'Yeah. You were worried about that and yet you…' she trailed off, a sob catching in her throat.

'Andy…' he began, daring to take a step forward.

She held up a hand, stopping him. So different from the last time she'd done so. Back when this was so new and they'd stood together in this very apartment for the very first time.

It was still new, really, she supposed.

It hadn't felt like it, before _this_. It had felt _right_. Felt _normal_ in the very best way.

'I'm tired, Sam. I can't do this now.' It wasn't an excuse, she was truly exhausted. 'I'm going to bed.' She turned away from him.

'There's things I need to say,' Sam said. 'You just gotta give me a chance, here.'

'Do I even want to hear them?' she asked with the innocent fear of a child.

'Yes,' Sam spoke behind her.

She sighed. By the lack of sound behind her, she knew Sam stood in place, not budging.

It was really what she had wanted all along. A stubbornness that kept him close instead of sending him away. Refusing to sabotage things – even if he had well and truly started that ball rolling – Andy waved a hand. 'The couch is yours if you want it.'

She was facing away from him, still. Yet she swore she could feel him nod.

'We'll talk in the morning,' Sam said. It was a statement, but not an order.

But Andy answered as if it were a question. It was deliberate. 'Depends if you stick around.'

She turned her head a little, ever so bravely, almost daringly. She caught a glimpse of Sam in her peripheral vision.

'I'll be here, McNally.'


End file.
